[Jezebel only barely hears him. For a long while, he's just curled on the floor, fingernails digging welts into his palm, biting his own lip until it bleeds. The pain doesn't ebb, just flows and radiates out of his blood like an aura of agony, overwhelming him entirely. If he moves even more than just a twitch, it swallows him down with a new sharp wave of torment, bowling him over.

It's a long while before it starts to fade even a little, just enough that he can move without doubling over in pain. When he's able to sit up, he does so carefully, slowly, trying to move himself with as few motions as possible.

He gestures to Marcus, holding out his hand, voice short and tense:] Help me up?